


You're My Wake-Up Call (and i've been so very tired)

by hymnic



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, No Smut, Sleep Deprivation, college boi grian, grian needs coffee, just fluff this time, same shit as always, terribly-timed lectures, theyre too gay so bdubs had to step in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hymnic/pseuds/hymnic
Summary: Grian needs coffee and Doc as a barista is just an assault on everybody's sexuality. That's it, that's the fic.This is the Gridoc Coffeeshop AU that literally zero (0) people asked for.That being said, please enjoy.
Relationships: Charles | Grian/Steffen Mossner | Docm77
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	You're My Wake-Up Call (and i've been so very tired)

It wasn’t the first time that Grian was regretting his fixation on aesthetics over practicality. But really, the new café that had just opened up a street away from his apartment was undeniably _pretty_ , and the decor was ever so quaint; Grian really couldn’t find it in him to care that the prices were higher than he would’ve normally liked.

And honestly, lectures at eight o’clock in the morning were _ungodly_ , to be quite frank. So, Grian found himself wandering into the café one sleepy morning, ruffled hair and large round-rimmed glasses slightly crooked and all. Maybe he was still in a haze of half-consciousness, maybe the early sunlight was particularly soft and warm that day, maybe Grian just really was that much of a disaster gay, but the barista (or perhaps he was the cashier?) was tall, and broad, his dark hair cropped short, and just altogether far too ruggedly handsome for Grian’s sleep-dazed mind.

And then came the unfortunate eureka-esque moment that one would refer to as a realization of “Oh fuck, he’s hot.”

Grian zoned back in to see the barista raising an eyebrow, before remembering that he was supposed to be a gay individual and have the ability of verbal communication at the same time, “Sorry, can I— I’d like a latte, please. A vanilla latte?”

And Grian was quite certain that he had spoken actual, English words, and was almost relieved. But then the barista glanced over, a small spark of amusement in his eyes as he said, “Yeah, you already mentioned. I still need your name though, please.”

Grian tried not to wince as all manner of unseemly language went racing through his mind in impressively rapid succession, and oh dear, he was definitely blushing, wasn’t he?

Running a hand through his messy blonde waves, Grian offered a sheepish smile, “Uh, Grian. Sorry about that. I just— I’m really tired this morning.”

“I can tell. No worries, though,” the barista murmured, concentrating on writing on the cup, before turning away to make the drink, “I get the same way. What’s got you awake so early?”

Grian smiled a little at the friendly, conspiratorial tone, his earlier embarrassment somewhat forgotten, “College lecture. At eight in the morning. How about you? Why’re you up?”

The barista glanced towards him, quirking an eyebrow, “I’m… working?”

Grian may or may not have slumped against the counter in defeat, “I— Can I still apologize for that? I genuinely think my brain is broken. I’m not this bad, usually.”

With a low chuckle, the barista turned to face Grian, “It’s all cool, man, no worries. The good news is that your drink is done. Here you go, Grian.”

And Grian decided, right there, that he quite liked the way his own name sounded in the deep, accented voice of the unfairly distracting barista. He paid quickly, before accepting the drink, appreciating the warmth of it against his hands. Wanting to linger a little longer, just to spend a bit more time in the still-empty café, Grian hesitated before turning to leave. 

Not quite caring that he was already going to be late for his lecture, he glanced up to meet the barista’s intense gaze, and made his best attempt at conversing, which was to say, “How about your name? I don’t know it, and since you had to put up with me in the morning before I had coffee, I think I should probably at least thank you by name.”

There it was again, that half-confused, half-amused, fully-attractive smile, the barista’s grin audible as he said, “Grian, do you mean to tell me that this entire time, you didn’t notice my name tag?”

Even as Grian felt his face warming from embarrassment again, there was the damning tag, a stark white against the barista— _Doc_ —’s standard black apron. The temptation to run and hide was concerningly strong. Grian settled for covering his face with both hands in embarrassment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a customer who’s messed up a coffee order in quite the same calibre as you have, Grian,” Doc joked, a rare laugh slipping out.

Grian’s words came out muffled, “Oh, don’t remind me, please.” Removing his hands from his face, he ruffled up his hair again—a nervous habit—before saying, “Well, you should get used to my abysmal communication skills from now on, because I will almost definitely also be showing up here in the afternoons to have coffee and study. In fact, I’ll probably be back around eleven, later this morning, for the sole reason of redeeming myself by ordering a coffee from you like a normal human being. Please tell me you’ll be around at the time.”

Doc seemed amused, perhaps slightly surprised, as he replied, “I will, actually.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

And if Doc’s eyes lingered on the way Grian’s blond hair caught the morning light as he left the café, then that was Doc’s own secret to keep.

———

Over the next few weeks, the two of them fell into a rhythm. Grian would stop by in the mornings on his way to college, and return later in the day after his lectures were over. Doc _may_ have done some personal rescheduling, but if Grian ever noticed that Doc always happened to be on shift when he dropped by the café, he never mentioned it.

And if other patrons of the café ever caught a certain barista distractedly staring at a blond college student, they kindly turned a blind eye, and repeated their order with the tiniest of knowing smiles. Which was something that happened far more often than Doc would have liked to admit, especially on days when the slanting sunlight outside the café’s glass walls hit Grian just right as he studied, making him glow bright and warm and positively radiant.

Doc would have been content with silently being what one might call a “hopeless gay”, if not for a run-in with one of Grian’s—decidedly rowdy—college friends. Marching right in the front doors of the café, red headband and spiky dark hair and all, the boy had practically confessed to Doc on the behalf of a very much mortified Grian.

But it had worked. 

And occasionally, Doc would wonder if Grian’s gratuitous and pointed use of the word “boyfriend” was for the sole purpose of routinely flustering him into losing his train of thought. 

Still, if sometimes Grian let himself in through the back door of the café and waited for Doc to find him, if sometimes Doc was mischievously yanked down by the front of his apron, if sometimes Doc returned to the cash register looking flushed and half-disheveled, then that was nobody’s business but his and his boyfriend’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Grian being a chaotic gremlin is so valid, but Grian being soft and a little embarrassed and just the tiniest bit mischievous is such a concept. So here it is, in a coffeeshop fic where it is customary for literally everybody to be soft and sweet. 
> 
> I sure hope this was okay, I had a blast writing this as a short, quick project. Feel free to leave a comment about other pairings you guys might like. The Hermitcraft fandom on AO3 doesn't have quite nearly enough fics and I am here to fix that.


End file.
